Late train home

I’m on the train, waiting for it to leave at 2252. This evening I’ve been hosting a charity dinner at work and it turned into one of those events where people don’t seem to want to leave. This would be OK if:

a) it wasn’t Wednesday night;
b) I didn’t live 40 miles out of London;
c) my train company provided more than three or four journeys each hour at this time of night;
d) my fellow passengers weren’t so loud/smelly/fond of eating Burger King takeaways; and
e) the people at the dinner were more of my favourite charity contacts – tonight’s guests were drawn from other firms for the most part and it isn’t a charity with which we do much, so all in all it was a tiring evening.

And I caught a train to the City at 7.04 this morning. And I was flipping busy all day. I’m worn out.

On the brighter side, I had breakfast at home and took my lunch to work again today. And I was about to claim this as a no spending day, but then I remembered that I will need to catch a taxi home when my train arrives. Bugger.

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